


Remnants

by girlintheglen



Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [14]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 16:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	Remnants

 

"I don't hear the engine starting Illya. What's taking you so long?"

Beneath the hood of the old Ford pick up, a flow of creatively infused epithets directed at his American partner reached Napoleon Solo's ears. The problem was he didn't understand any of it because Illya Kuryakin was speaking a language he knew for a certainty was unfamiliar to the other man. Finally, having hurled as many insults as he thought acceptable, the Russian stood up and shut the hood with a resounding thud.

"Don't American students take a course in automotive care? For all of the _hoopla_ surrounding cars, one would think you all should know something about how they work." Napoleon just smiled. He got a kick out of Illya's newfound appreciation for words like hoopla.

"I was, um… otherwise engaged tovarisch. I got straight A's in most of my courses…'' That last sort of hung in the air while Napoleon thought of the hours of homework, studying with some very pretty girls.

"Hmmph! I know what sort of student you were, Napoleon. Your idea of a graph, for instance, was probably creating a rank for the various young ladies you were trying to seduce.' Illya shot his partner a smirk, remembering his own rather peculiar method of rating the girls he wished to date. Unfortunately, the system of Soviet education to which he was relegated set impossibly high standards of achievement, leaving little time for the romantic imaginations of young Illya, absorbed as he was in the pursuit of not being cast off into a place like Siberia.

"I, for one, took my education seriously." Now it was Napoleon smirking, wondering just how long it took for Illya to lose his precious virginity.

"So, tell me O Partner Mine… just when, exactly, did you finally manage to break away from your, um… studies…' The smile on Napoleon's face only served to make Illya more determined to defend his academic achievements and the methods by which he pursued them.

"I mean, did you ever actually… hmmm. how to put this delicately…" Illya smiled as he thought back.

"Fifteen." Shock and disbelief flooded Napoleon's mind.

"I don't believe you. I mean, you? Fifteen?" The idea that the man who so deftly avoided women, the man who berated his own romantic proclivities, had been sexually active before…

"Who? I thought you were living like a monk back in the USSR."

"Why does it surprise you Napoleon? We have very cold winters in Russia, and I sought out warmth and companionship…"

"And sex? Really Illya, I thought better of you. Taking advantage of some poor girl, tsk tsk…" He figured the highroad was finally his.

"Actually…' Should he expose his country to yet another reason for mistrust. He had been part of a group slated for espionage, trained to gain the desired object with whatever means were needed. His education, the time spent in the Soviet Navy, and everything else that became part of his training as an agent prior to joining UNCLE, it had begun very early.

"I shouldn't have said anything. You can't possibly understand my circumstances.' He looked at his friend now, his eyes betraying years of servitude to his Soviet masters.

"I was trained to be what I am, to do what I do." Napoleon wasn't sure he understood.

"We're all trained. None of us is … Ah. You mean, the training started at an early age. I'm sorry Illya, I didn't mean to pry, it was… I'm sorry."

Napoleon might never really understand his friend, or his life before New York. A spy was always going to bend the rules of acceptable behavior, but to take a child and turn him into something he was never intended to be was brutal.

Illya turned the key in the ignition, was glad to hear the engine come to life again. It was a relief, it changed the atmosphere and the discussion.

"I think we can still get to our appointment on time. Mr. Waverly will be most unhappy should we not pick up the _package_." The package was a Soviet scientist who had fled both his country and THRUSH, for whom he had done a series of experiments before being discovered by the KGB. It was a small miracle the man had managed to escape their grasp, and an even greater one that he had landed on American shores.

"Well, we don't want to make the Old Man angry. You got this truck running, now get us to our destination."

The trip was made in record time, the 'package' obtained and transported safely to Headquarters. The conversation about Illya's introduction to sex was left behind, alongside the other remnants of his life.


End file.
